


The One That I Want

by Mystradigans



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Grease - Freeform, M/M, Teenlock, and so does Mycroft, because they're idiots, but Greg does it anyway, but at least there's no stupid flying car at the end of this fic, changing yourself to impress the person you're interested in is probably not a good idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystradigans/pseuds/Mystradigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the scene at the end of Grease where Sandy changes her appearance to become the kind of person she thinks Danny wants only to find that Danny has done the same thing. Greg is terrified that Mycroft will realise he's made a mistake in agreeing to go on a date with him. Because I've written a whole ton of Insecure!Mycroft that I thought it would be fun to try it the other way around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> By Emily. I adore Grease but I'd like to think it's probably not necessary to start smoking just to impress a romantic interest. Unless that's what I've been doing wrong...

"I'd better shape up" thought Greg, finally coming out of his crush-induced-daydream that was the direct result of the fact that he had asked Mycroft Holmes out on a date and Mycroft Holmes had said yes!

But now he was starting to realise that he actually had to go on this date, and that Mycroft probably wouldn't want to be seen in public with a 17 year old who wore skinny jeans and studded boots, messed up their hair on purpose to look 'cool' and had a tattoo of the little mermaid on their ankle.

"Hey, Mycroft" he'd probably say upon arriving at the café, his shirt opened to reveal a tank top and a bunch of silver necklaces. In case there was any doubt as to whether or not he was straight.

"Aah" Mycroft would cry in horror. "What is that thing doing in my presence? No silly teenager is allowed within a 10 metre radius of my perfect form."

"Oh, no" he'd respond sadly. "I suppose this means I can't get a second date?"

Mycroft would definitely almost throw up at that idea. "Heavens, no. Have you seen me? I'm so out of your league you shouldn't even be allowed to look at me in case you make me less hot!"

Naturally, Greg's brain managed to ignore the fact that Mycroft had seen him dressed like this every day at sixth form, that he probably wouldn't have agreed to go out with Greg if he found him that disgusting and that he'd certainly never use the word 'hot' in serious context because it was his brain and it liked to imagine the worst case scenario. Nevertheless, Greg decided that the only practical solution to looking so inadequate beside Mycroft was to fix his appearance. He was gonna shape up.

 

Greg threw on suit after suit, trying to find something that Mycroft would wear, or, at the very least, would mean that Mycroft wasn't embarrassed to stand next to him. The date was tomorrow and he still hadn't found a tie that didn't look horrific.

He sighed and turned to the sales assistant. "Could you please just get me the fanciest three piece suit you can find?"

She looked at him dubiously- that was to be expected, he was a punky teenager attempting to find a suitable suit for a royal visit, and he hadn't taken his black nail-polish off yet, and he'd spent fifteen minutes trying to wiggle out of his jeans to try stuff on- but went out to get the suit. Greg gazed at himself in the mirror and felt determined to make himself good enough for Mycroft. The other boy always seemed to be dressed his best, wearing pressed trousers, waistcoats and ties to school where everyone else wore casual clothes, and Greg thought he was so beautiful he'd never had a shot. But it was June, nearing the end of term, and if he didn't ask now he'd never know so he'd fumbled through a confession of attraction and asked him out. He hadn't expected Mycroft to say yes, or even thought about what might happen if he did.

"Here... sir" the assistant said, handing him the clothes. He paid (who cared if he couldn't afford to eat for the next few weeks, this was Mycroft Holmes!) and exited the shop, suit in a plastic bag.

 

How the hell did Mycroft get his hair so neat? Greg was pretty sure it was another sign of his husband-to-be's amazing hot-person powers because his own hair was refusing to go flat, no matter how many times he pulled a brush through it.

"Dammit, stay still so I can comb you, stupid little sticky-up bit!" he moaned. Great, now he was talking to his hair.

He sighed and sprayed more detangler onto the brush, willing it to become perfect and stylish like Mycroft's. A while later, he was finally satisfied that his hair was a little less of a mess than it had been before he'd started and took off his nail varnish. He put on his new suit, wincing at how tight the collar felt around his neck, and attempted to tie his tie. In the end, he googled a tie-tying tutorial (try saying that quickly) because the whole way through school when he'd worn a uniform, he'd just knotted his tie loosely and left the top two buttons undone.

He put on some black shoes to complete the look and left the house, aware that if any of his friends saw him like this they'd make fun of him for years. It was of no consequence; he was doing this for Mycroft, after all. He walked to the café, stomach full of butterflies under his blazer, and stepped inside to find Mycroft.

And there he was. Only, he wasn't how Mycroft usually looked. He was perfect as always, and Greg felt giddy looking at him, but you couldn't deny that he looked completely different.

He was wearing blue skinny jeans. Boots with- oh wow, were those heels?- tartan shirt unbuttoned over a top and two silver necklaces. He was wearing eyeliner, just a touch, the level Greg wore to school sometimes if he woke up early enough to apply make-up. His ginger hair wasn't in its usual style, it was messed up, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. All in all, he looked like Greg.

Mycroft apparently was having the same reaction to seeing Greg's suit as Greg was to seeing Mycroft dressed like the lead singer of a punk rock band. He stared at Greg, his eyes lingering on Greg's waist which was drawn attention to by the cut of his blazer, and slowly a smile spread across his face.

"I've never seen you in a suit before."

"Yes, well" said Greg. "I've never seen you in.. that before"

Mycroft blushed a little. "I was worried you'd realise I'm not as.. as cool as you, as popular as you, you know? I thought maybe if I looked more like someone you'd want to spend time with, you'd like me more"

Greg grinned. "I thought the exact same thing! I thought you'd be offended if I wasn't as well dressed as you are all the time"

"No, not at all, I love your clothes" Mycroft said quickly, turning an even brighter scarlet.

"I love your suits too" assured Greg. "I think you're attractive whatever you wear"

"Really?" asked Mycroft. Greg nodded. "Then.. perhaps.. a compromise?" Mycroft offered.

He slowly pulled his glasses out of his pocket and sat them on his nose. "There" he said with a smile. "Now I can see you even better"

Grinning madly at the sight of Mycroft looking so adorable with his glasses, Greg ruffled his own hair, making it as untidy as ever. "Now I can move without worrying that my hair will get messed up" he explained. "It already is!"

Mycroft laughed. "Gregory, I don't want you to feel that you have to change yourself for me"

"Ok" agreed Greg. "So long as you don't either. You're the one that I want, Myc, just the way you are!"


End file.
